2014-12-31

85

I had meant to write another short story before the end of the year, but it seems I've run out of time.
   This year has been incredible successful for this blog in the sense that I've written more on it than ever before, and that's including the very first year of teenage-angst posts. All in all I've written a total of 25 posts (not counting this one), 17 are tagged "Short story" and four are tagged "Poem".
   I am incredibly proud of what I've been able to accomplish in creative writing this year, and would like to thank any and all who have taken the time to read anything that I've written, and I hope that all of you have a great ending to this year and an even greater beginning of the next.

See you in 2015.

2014-12-12

84

Harry was a young teen with his whole life ahead.
He felt unloved.
He felt unwanted.
He felt as if the entire world existed to cause him misery.
He decided to find a solution.
Susie was a young teen and very shy.
She never got the chance to tell him.

2014-10-18

83

A few droplets of rain fell softly to the ground. The morning's pouring of rain had left a slight overcast and a scent of wet soil lingering over the graveyard.
   Walking across the narrow pathway was Millie Saunders, wearing a black jacket and a dark pink scarf. In her hand she held a bouquet of lilies with a single red rose placed in the middle. She turned when she reached a row and started walking along it before stopping at a headstone. The bouquet was placed leaning against the grey rock.
   "I thought about you the other day," Millie spoke, partly to herself. "I was looking through some photos from Friday's night-out and remembered that one time we were at the club with your friends. You had left to get a drink at the bar when some guy sat down next to me and started chatting. I can't remember anything of what he said, but I remember that I asked if you were jealous about it when you got back. You weren't, because you were sure that I would never leave you for someone else like that. I smiled and continued drinking. You meant well, but had a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. I still can't shake the feeling that I ruined that evening for you by feeling ill and forcing us to leave early, even though you kept saying how you were bored already."
   She sat down in front of the headstone, just of the path, and took of her gloves. It was cold out, but she didn't really like the feeling of wearing gloves, too confined.
   "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I miss you." She snivelled, holding back the tears as best she could. "Everyone keeps telling me I couldn't have done anything, but I don't believe them. There must have been something I could've done. If I hadn't left during our fight I could've called an ambulance, and they would've been able to resuscitate you and you wouldn't have died alone in the flat. I'm sorry. I'm so, so very sorry!"
   She curled up as a tear left her cheek and fell to the ground. Fell like a droplet of rain.

2014-09-15

82

The creation of the Idea Square was one of the greatest contribution to the politics of the city. They had built it on a central lot, with crystallised terminal-walls to collect the ideas of the citizenry.
   Adding to a terminal was easily done with just a few simple gestures of a hand, and then the AI would group the addition together with the notes already added by others. No subject was taboo except for those that violated the Codes of Ethics, of course, and every opinion was open to argumentation. The city had gotten a new focal point.
   The Square had changed the way politics worked completely. At the end of each PoliTerm the AI sifted through all the additions made and found which topics had gotten enough attention to go through a vote, organised them into propositions, and then put them on the public Voters' Board. If a proposition passed the people most suited for the implementation were put to work by the mainframe.

2014-09-13

81

I've seen you at the café for some time now. My workmates and I walk past every Thursday on our way to the burger place for lunch.
   Sometimes you're on a computer, typing on and on about something. Sometimes you're reading a book, or the newspaper, and sometimes you're just sitting there with music plugged in your ears. The constants seems to be that you always have a cup of coffee, a half-eaten cupcake, and no company.
   At times I wonder what would happen if I walked up to you, told you my name. Perhaps you'd smile because someone finally wanted to liberate you from your loneliness. Maybe you have seen me walk past for months and kept hoping that I'd notice you. Perchance you'd think I was a creep. I mean, who pays attention to the behaviour of some stranger they've seen on the way to lunch? I must be a disgusting stalker who obsesses over people. Why would I ever have anything in common with anyone like you?
   It's probably for the best if I keep walking...

2014-08-12

80

The following text is a translation of an essay I wrote in my last year of High School. The assignment was to write about one of several topics and discuss a few specific points. My topic ended up being about growing up and rites of passage.

Something that more and more people talk about and discuss these days is how and when you become an adult. Does the transformation occur when during confirmation at 15, when you are of legal age at 18, or when you can purchase alcohol in stores at [20], or at an even later milestone that slips my mind? The only answer I can provide to that question is that I am 18 years old, confirmed, and not an adult.
   Only a few years ago I would probably had said that you become adult when you body stops developing. As you can probably see from that small comment I used to look on problems through a black/white natural science lens even when that had nothing to do with it, but at least I had an answer.
   Nowadays I sit and observe my close friends and family via their status updates on Facebook. I have a hard time feeling anything other than that I've fallen behind on the growing-adult bit when I compare myself to friends my age. One of my friends has a flat with their boyfriend of four years, while I sit alone in my untidy room where I've lived for all of my life. One of my friends has during the time I've known them gone through more than five relationships while I've barely had contact with the outside world. But when I really think about it I don't think they are more adult than I am. I think the reason they seem adult in my eyes is that I don't know what they think about during the days, while I keep almost 100% check on my own "childish" thoughts of the day. To be an adult probably lies very much in how others see you. Few probably feel [they take] a definite step to adulthood before 40, but a lot of people have probably found a way to give the illusion of being an adult long before that.
   We've all probably heard about how no one wants to feel adult, and there's probably something to it. De images I conjure when imagining an adult person is often someone who sits in traffic on their way to a grey office where they work for eight hours before they go back through traffic home, and I don't think I'm alone with that image. Who looks forward to being a being a dry old man (or woman) who just sits and is grouchy on the way to the office, at the office, and on the way from the office? If the majority share my perhaps a bit exaggerated and almost antique image of what it is to be an adult then perhaps it's not that weird that few want to feel adult.
   Jonas Cramby wrote a chronicle for the journal Café in which he mentions how humans throughout history has had numerous different rites that a boy has to complete to become a man. These rites were important points in the young man's life and gave a predetermined path to become an adult. Without these rites we wander around in the dark while at the same time trying to find others who've gotten a bit further to imitate. On the one hand we are not bound by tradition and rules, while on the other we have no idea of how or what we need to do to be adult in the eyes of both us and the world at large. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to reintroduce old, or perhaps new, rites. It could be a test or a little game to end childhood with, and we could use those adult points that so many are talking about for something concrete: "Gather ten adult points and achieve adulthood." That'd be something.

2014-08-08

79

My footsteps echoed against the marble walls as I made my way towards the back of the church. I knelt down as I got close to the altar and started feeling around beneath the top of it. The informant had said I should search here, this was supposed to be the place, and yet I couldn't-
   "Aha!" I whispered as the button let loose a soft 'click'.
   The altar began to rumble silently and the ground trembled under my feet. I took a few steps back as the stone cracked open and revealed a stair leading down deeper into the earth.
   Before I had a chance to take a single step further a dark, shadowy figure appeared from the tunnel and towered above me. I could feel my heartbeat stop for a second. Even though I had been told about this I felt completely unprepared as the creature stood staring. I licked my lips and try to recall what the informant had told me. There was a codephrase I was supposed to utter. I cleared my throat.
   "Mr. Smythe, I presume?"
   I could feel a single drop of sweat run down my forehead. The shadow took a bow and stepped aside, allowing me passage to the stairs. The first challenge had been passed, now awaited the second.

2014-07-03

78

Last summer me and some friends spent an evening out by the jetty. We brought a charcoal grill, food, and drinks with us to keep our bellies full as we sat and talked about all things big and small. As time went by it would soon be an hour past midnight and we decided to pack our things. Two of us carried the grill, two brought the chairs and blankets, and I was left carrying the trash we'd assembled.
   We walked along a path that took us through a cluster of trees thick enough to hide us from the starlight sky above us. It was here that my attention left the jolly conversation we were having, and instead looked up at the tree crowns above us. I saw a tiny light, barely bright enough to light up branch it seemed to be resting on. My pace slowed as I tried deciding on what it was that peered down on us from above. Suddenly the light started moving, soaring down from the tree and hovering just a few feet from the ground. I'm still not certain, but at the time I could swear that it was twinkling at me, like the stars had done earlier, and then started moving away from the path. I dropped the bags of trash at my feet and cautiously followed it through the undergrowth.
   The little speck of light continued floating away, yet still beckoning for me to follow. Through bushes, over streams, and beneath fallen trees. I don't know for how long I followed it, but eventually we ended up in a clearing with tall grass and a mirror-like pond in the centre. My curiosity had long since overcome my sense of caution and I walked over to peer into the water. The reflections of the stars lay calmly in the water and then started floating up into the air, joining the speck of light that I had followed. The multitude of lights started twirling around my body, up and down, as if in a dance. I felt how I was pulled up by some unseen force and closed my eyes. In the darkness I could feel how the lights lifted me above the trees and higher still. How to be so far up and still feel completely safe is difficult to explain. I opened my eyes.
   My friends were packing up our things on the jetty. They laughed and said that I had fallen asleep an hour ago, but I was just in time to carry the bags of trash back to the cars. As we passed through the tree cluster I searched for the little speck but was unsuccessful in finding it. We made our way to the cars and drove home.
   I know you won't believe my story. That's all right. You don't have to believe it. I know it happened, and that's good enough for me.

2014-05-12

77

I had my chance at glory once; to mingle with the upper crust of society at their fancy parties, and to wear fine jewellery and fine robes.
   Instead I chose the path of the common man; I turned away from my friends and found new kinsmen among the gutter-folk. There I toiled for years greasing the gears of our community, making sure everything worked as it was supposed to. Frequently I would get yelled at whenever anything was ever so slightly off, even if it made no practical difference.
   I saw my old friends the other day. They were walking down the street in their riches, with servants following suit. I pondered whether I had made the right choice all those years ago...

2014-04-05

76

Lysinne stood gazing on her balcony, her vision carried far and wide by the winds of magic. In the far east she could see as her workers toiled in the mines, making sure her armies would get their gold. In the west stretched endless fields of grass and greenery dotted with the farms that fed the people of her empire.
   "The Kingslayer has arrived." One of her servants interrupted, bowing deeply before the sorceress.
   Lysinne left her state of meditation and her eyes turned back to their natural blue. "Do let him in." She entered the chamber behind her and walked over to a large circular table with different figurines representing both her and her enemies' forces.
   "M'lady."
   "Arbak! What news from the front-lines?" She greeted her draconian general.
   "We have crushed the forces of the heathen wizard." He said, while taking out a sack from beneath his cloak. He emptied a bearded head onto the floor. "He should be of no more trouble to us."
   The sorceress smiled and waved her arm over the table, making some of the enemy figurines disappear into nothingness. The two of them stood and looked over situation depicted on the table.
   For the past six years the empire had been in a state of constant war. Lysinne has claimed the throne of her empire after defeating the neighbouring magicians and warlords who opposed her rule. Arbak had been the first to recognize her leadership and powers and in doing so saved his draconian tribe from what would've been sure destruction, and instead made them the finest front line soldiers of Lysinne's magical empire. Together they had defeated nation after nation, slaying warlords and kings alike. Now all that was standing between them and domination of the known world was the underground dwarfish city states.
   "Prepare your armies. March them towards the Deep Gate and into the land of the dwarfs." The sorceress eventually said.
   "As you wish m'lady." Arbak bowed and left the chambers.
   Left alone Lysinne turned to the balcony again. She grasped her staff and raised it towards the skies. A bolt of lightning pierced upwards through the clouds, and far away to the south, where the mountains ran deep into the earth, the ground cracked open revealing the towers of dwarfs.

2014-03-28

75

What do you do when you realise you're the bad guy. When you find yourself opposite those advocating personal freedoms seemingly despite a lack of rational thought. Do you stand fast in your belief and argue against their cause, or do you simply slip away into the shadows and leave it all behind.

2014-03-20

74

The clock is slowly creeping towards midnight. My father lies in his bed and breathes irregularly. He's about to leave us soon, we all know it. His grandchildren has already said their farewells, as has his friends. Now it's just him and me, father and son. The only thing keeping the room from being totally consumed by silence is the clock ticking on the wall.
   I hold his hand, more for my own sake than his. He's barely conscious and at times I doubt if he knows I'm even there with him. His face is in a state of constant pain. He moans ever so slightly and his lips trembles. I help him to the glass of water on the night table.
   Suddenly he bolts up as the bell chimes twelve. He looks straight at the door. I turn around but see nothing. He doesn't reply to my attempts to talk to him.
   "Suzie" he lets out before slumping back into the bed. Dead.
   Two weeks later a burial is held. It's a private affair with only a handful of people. When the ceremony is over everyone starts milling towards the parking lot and the cars. I stay back and take a final look at the tombstone before I return to my family.

Suzanne Clifford
8 April 1938 - 4 June 1968
Harry Clifford
5 July 1931 - 3 March 2014

2014-03-15

73

The watcher is watching.
Do not alarm.
The watcher is watching.
You'll come to no harm.

The watcher is watching.
There's no need for fear.
The watcher is watching.
Soon he'll be near.

The watcher is watching.
Don't turn around.
The watcher is watching.
Please, settle down.

The watcher is watching.
Don't make a peep.
The watcher is watching.
Do go to sleep.

The watcher is watching,
And let it be said:
"The watcher is watching,
Soon you'll be dead."

2014-03-01

72

Here I write my last confession. I pray you read it well.
   I lived long as a mercenary serving many warlords all over the known world. I ended more lives than can be counted by all the adepts of the High Council. I have led regiments against ruler and peasant alike. Few can claim to have caused as much suffering for the widows and fatherless as I. Yet I feel no remorse for what I did, for I have given my sister and her children a life they otherwise would not have.
   The family I was born to lived as farmers on the republic's edge and were often harassed by bandits and raiders who stole food and coin alike. They came one day to claim their loot but found none, for the harvest had been poor, and instead they burned down the houses, killed the adults, and enslaved the children. That day I was torn from my whole family, including my sister who was sold to a wealthy merchant at first notice while I remained with the slavers.
   I was brought across the unclaimed territories and eventually sold to a fighting ring as fodder for the audience's entertainment. Miraculously I survived far longer than they had expected and joined the regular roster as a fighter, slowly climbing to become the main attraction. My success was so great I managed to buy my freedom and pay for my way back homewards where I managed to track down my sister.
   The merchant owned many businesses in several towns and had decided my sister would be his assistant in taking care of affairs as well as keeping his bed warm for the nights. After weeks of planning I found out which tavern they were going to visit and when, and then I struck. My blade cut deep in the fat man's throat as he drowned in his own blood as he slept. My sister, not recognizing me, screamed for the guards and forced me to escape before my own life would be cut short. I left my sister again for the second time and would never meet her face to face ever again.
   I joined up with a band of mercenaries and headed off to war. We mainly plundered villages in the outskirts of the enemy territories, but at times we joined with the main forces to fight in the vanguard. My taste for blood grew even greater than it had been during my time as a pit fighter and my skill improved vastly. I took great care to make sure that parts of my payment found their way back to my sister, who would probably have been thrown out on the streets after the merchant's murder. The mercenary profession brought me far and wide as I unknowingly helped my sister build her business empire.
   After several years I decided to pay my sister another visit again. I found her having settled down in the nation's capital, but when I was going to approach her she was joined by her husband and their children. They were all clad in silks and jewellery while I wore a warrior's garb tattered by time. While we shared blood I would never be of the same world as my sister again, and so I left before any off them could see me. I continued sending my earnings but never attempted to visit again.
   Now as death approaches I consider myself lucky to die of age, even if I die alone, for I have lived a warrior's life of violence and death, and prevailed. I have no regrets for through my killings I have provided for what family I have left.
   This has been my last confession. I pray you read it well.

Ben 'Orphan' Intyre
Uncle, Fighter, Provider

71

I am being haunted by ghosts.
A ghost from the past.
Your ghost.
It shows up in my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day.
It is nice to me and teases me.
Yet it torments me with its very existence.
I am also being haunted by a different ghost.
A kinder ghost.
This ghost shows me what I wish for.
What I hope to have but probably won't get.
It still comforts me somehow.
Makes the other other ghost's present bearable.

2014-02-12

70

Mellow mood
Sit and brood
Rarely viewed
Feel subdued
Solitude

69

The wooden ship creaked as the wind tore at the sails. The storm had been heavy on the bay for the last couple of hours but it seemed to slow down a bit as time went on. The soldiers muttered as the officers tried to whip them alive once more, the siege wasn't over yet and they were to make landfall soon.
   One of the soldiers, a bearded man, stretched his arms as best he could in the cramped space and checked the fittings of his shield again, everything seemed to be in order. He followed the others into the smaller landing vessels, twenty soldiers sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in two rows, and they began rowing to the shore. The wind while slower was still tugging at the boat, rocking it side to side as they moved forwards.
   The shore itself was lined with fortified emplacements; ballistae protected by palisades that had been built as soon as the attackers were spotted on the horizon. Archers stood at the ready to fire on any and all footsoldiers that made landfall. No one would take this fortress without suffering casualties in tenfold, nay, hundredfold!
   The bearded man could hear as the chaplain of their boat began his prayers. It was customary for them to follow along on the ships, but it had raised several eyebrows and mutters when they had started boarding the landing vessels. The prayers of the spirits were in a tongue not used by the common folk so while he could not hear what the chaplain was saying he could understand from the tone that this was not something meant to comfort the soldiers, but rather to lash out at the enemies.
   Suddenly an unnaturally large bolt of light struck down from the storm clouds and cleft the towers of the keep that rested on a hill above the shore. Panic broke out among the fortifications as the ground split beneath the ballistae and fire rose towards the sky. In their boats the armies of the Emperor cried in triumph as they made landfall and made short work of the defenders.
   Today the spirits had chosen the victor.

2014-02-08

68

Have you ever looked into a mirror? I don't mean look at your own reflection or the layer of silver that causes the reflection. No, I'm talking about truly looking into the mirror, past the reflections, past the silver, and into the realm beyond.
   The realm beyond the mirror is quite an extraordinary one. Inside live spirits who wear the appearances of things in our world; the bookshelf in the background, the flower on the desktop, and even the humans who gaze back at them. The spirits are very good at wearing their masks faithfully, forming almost perfect reflections for us humans to enjoy. I say "almost perfect" because if you take the time to truly look into the mirror and linger for a while a crack will start to show in their façade. Your skin will seem to lose colour, while your eyes changes to a bloody red. Seeing the true forms of the spirits angers them greatly and they will do what they can to make sure you don't get to spread your findings, even if that means leaving the realm beyond the mirror.
   So take care the next time you're fixing your hair or adjusting your make-up, for the spirits might become apparent if you disturb them for too long, and taking care of your looks might be turn out to be a little bit harder when your eyes have been clawed out.

2014-02-04

67

I walked towards the light. I had left my body, my loved ones, and their tears below me. Their feelings no longer concerned me. I was free from the chains I had crafted in my earthly life:
   The limp I got from jumping of the garage roof at the age of nine
   My wife whom I had met twelve years ago and married four years later
   Our beautiful children, four-year-old Jake and his year younger sister Sarah
   All of that was behind me now. I did not despise them or anything, heck I'd even loved them right up 'til the end, but as soon as Death's embrace took me I had no more feelings for anything from before. I was in a state of absolute freedom without a bother in the world. The warmth of the light above me pulled me closer second by second, minute by minute until I could no longer see the hospital or even the city beneath me. I was in the empty void of space with only the light for company.
   Ahead of me a cloud formed out of the nothingness and I flew closer. Peeking through I could see a garden filled with trees, flowers, and streams. A small path curved along the slight elevations of the grassy field. I stepped down from my floating position and started to walk along the path, deciding to follow it wherever it took me. I could see mountains form in the distance and get closer as I walked for countless hours. Finally I reached a meadow with a small wooden cabin.
   My curiosity pushed me towards it and I peeked through one of the windows. Inside I could see that the cabin contained only one room with a small fireplace as well as a well-made bed. There was a brass plate attached to the outside of the front door, and on it my name was engraved:
   "Here rests Fredrick Miller, loved by family and friends."
   I entered my new home.

2014-01-30

66

Oh little worm I love you so
Your heart of gold and heavy bum
Sir Doublecheese a knight of old
With bushy 'stache and eyes of glass
Oh little worm I love you so

Oh little worm I love you so
Your skill at arms fully unknown
Bombs exploding both far and near
Watch out, watch out my little friend
Oh little worm I love you so

Oh little worm I love you so
That mine looks so disastrous
A big explosion and you're gone
A crater sits where you once where
Oh little worm I loved you so

2014-01-29

65

Since I've started using this blog a bit more recently I figured I'd update the appearance of it to be more in accordance with my needs as of now instead of as of five years ago. Hopefully this won't cause too much confusion for the few readers I have.

2014-01-28

64

I will never forget the first time I met her.
   I was riding the six o'clock bus home and reading a book to pass the time, as I usually did. I noticed the bus stopping for a moment at the last stop before we would enter the countryside. The bus drove on for a couple of minutes before I heard a voice above me.
   "What'chu readin'?" A girl, about my age and incredibly pretty, was standing in the aisle leaning against one of the poles.
   "Um.." I mumbled, "It's The fault in our stars. John Green."
   "Huh. Mind if I take a seat?" She nodded to one of the seats opposite me. I gave her permission. "I think I've heard of him. Isn't he one of those vlogbrothers or whatever on YouTube?"
   "Yeah, I guess. I don't watch them, only read his books."
   "Oh, well is it any good? Like, would you recommend it?"
   "It's good." I was not used to getting this much attention from strangers, especially on the commute. "Have I met you before? I don't mean to be rude."
   "Nah, it's okay. We've never met, though we've been ridin' the same bus for a couple of months now."
   "Oh. Well, hi then, I guess."
   We greeted and she continued asking about stuff like the Star Wars patch I had sewn onto the side of my cap and which Star Wars film was my favourite and so on. We talked for maybe half an hour before she got up.
   "My stop. See you tomorrow?"
   "Unless I get fired I'll be here for a long time." She looked at me quizzically. "That's a yes." She smiled.
   She walked over to the door and turned around to blow me a kiss. Just as I realised what she'd just done the bus shook violently and tipped over. I saw her being flung into one of the poles and fall still on the ground-facing doors. I felt disoriented for a moment before I unclipped my belt and ran over to her. She didn't move. I touched her at the neck and wrist, no pulse. As the world began drifting off around me I could hear screams and someone shouting for an ambulance.
   I will never forget the first time I met her.

2014-01-23

63

After the weaver was done with the realm of mortals two guardians were chosen to protect creation from the shadow. Sun would watch from the skies during the day while Moon would do the same at night. With the world finished the weaver was satisfied and left.
   The mortals lived happily and peacefully for centuries. Tribes settled in villages that grew into towns and cities. All was well until one day when the small village Orsin was attacked by beasts from the depths of the forest. None survived the attack but two hunters, the spouses Arvic and Miram. Deeply distraught by the slaughter they had returned home to they cursed the Sun and Moon for not keeping watch and protecting the village. Whilst searching the remains for anything that could be salvaged they started hearing voices and whispers which they followed deeper into the forest, hoping to find other survivors. In the middle of the forest they found a formation of stones that seemed somehow unnatural, and from behind one of the stones a phantom appeared and spoke to them. The phantom had seen what had happened to the village, and promised the couple that it would help them avenge their friends and families if only they stayed by the stones for a couple of weeks and listened to what it had to teach them.
   Arvic and Miram agreed and during the following weeks they listened to what the phantom had to say. They hunted animals for their intestines and bones, and brought everything they found back to the stones so that the phantom could lay them on the ground in a pattern. When their time with the phantom began to come to an end they were taught a ritual that would require all that they ha been taught before and the resources they had collected. They chanted deep within the forest and as their words reached up above the crowns of the trees reality started to change all around them. Before they realised what had happened it was already to late. They had become mere puppets to be used.
   The shadow had found a way past the watchers.
   The shadow had introduced magick to the world.

2014-01-18

62

In the beginning there was only the raw energy of the Aether. The energy turned and twisted upon itself, causing sparks as it collided.
   From the storms of the Aether came the weaver. The great being started wrestling the energies for control and began applying rules and laws to how they would be allowed to interact and take shape. From chaos the weaver created the world of mortals, weaving the energies of the Aether into its seas and mountains, forests and plains.
   As the weaver did his great work a shadow watched from afar. The shadow became jealous of the weavers work and decided to destroy the creation before the laws were too numerous to break. But the weaver was ever vigilant and warded of the shadow for long enough to seal the creation from outside harm. The shadow was furious and fled out of sight far from the world that the weaver had created.
   What once had been nothing but raw energy was now rules and law.
   What once had been filled with chaos and turmoil was now at peace.

2014-01-10

61

Det finns många vi älskar, vars sällskap vi ofta saknar.
Kommer vi, när vi är färdiga här på Jorden, att sluta oss till dem i ljuset?

Kommer cirkeln vara obruten?
Väntar ett bättre liv där uppe?

I den lyckliga barndomen talade de ofta om kärlek.
De brukade peka till Sonen och nu är de hos Honom.

Kommer cirkeln vara obruten?
Väntar ett bättre liv där uppe?

Vi mins lovsångerna vi sjöng med vår barnaröst.
Är de våra favoriter, eller föredrar vi annan musik nu?

Kommer cirkeln vara obruten?
Väntar ett bättre liv där uppe?

Vi kan minnas glada samlingar kring brasornas eldar.
Den stora sorgen när de lämnade oss här nere.

Kommer cirkeln vara obruten?
Väntar ett bättre liv där uppe?

En i taget tömdes säten och de försvann.
Familjen är nu delad. Blir den åter hel någon dag?

Kommer cirkeln vara obruten?
Väntar ett bättre liv där uppe?


2014-01-07

60

A lonely man in a kingdom sits,
on the broken throne of history.
A King of Embers, the Lord of Ash,
his domain split straight in half.
The servants of his ancient foe,
has come at last to claim his throne.